Prayer to Diana

Virgin Goddess of the sacred groves, whose unkind banners and fierce battle cries I follow, scorning my sex in a manner unlike the Greeks. If ever did I not boldly enter Bacchic revelries of the night, and even after I married, though my virgin purity was soiled, in my heart of hearts I remained a virgin huntress. I took no care to hide my fault from You in some secret cave, but held out my son to You, confessed my shame and trembling laid him at Your feet. He was not of degenerate blood, not weak or mild, but straightaway he crawled to my bow and as a babe cried for my arrow. For him I pray — whose fate causes me these restless nights and threatening dreams — for him, who now audaciously goes too boldly off to war, I pray to You that I may see him victorious, or, if I pray for too much, grant at least that I may see him once more. I pray, merciful Dictynna, by Your mother's labors and Your brother's glory, with all Your arrows pierce deeply this unhappy womb, and let him first hear of his wretched mother's death.